


The Problem of Interactionism

by wrongfun (scumtrout)



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Cyborgs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumtrout/pseuds/wrongfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. House doesn't sleep, though sometimes he feels like he's dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem of Interactionism

Robert House doesn't sleep anymore. Instead, he experiences varying levels of consciousness. At any given point in time, some part of him will always be awake, though not necessarily functioning at full efficiency. It's a delicate system, and he has to be careful to not overtax it. Organic components are difficult to replace.

He'd like to think of himself as a pristine intelligence, anchored to a body of metal and flesh, but it's hardly as simple as that. There are debts that he owes to his biological self. It won't stand for mortification. For the most part, though, it's just a dependent creature in the background, akin to a a demanding but rather boring pet. Robert is its sole custodian, so he makes the token effort required to maintain it, then devotes himself to more interesting things. 

He doesn't miss the contradictory reality experienced by 'normal' humans. His world one of mathematics, which as pure a truth as the universe has to offer. It might be the closest he'll get to touching eternity. It's beautiful, albeit in a way that few people could comprehend. 

But sometimes there's the occasional glitch in the system - unavoidable, really - and his consciousness will waver. With the unreality of a hallucination, he'll be able to smell the chemical haze of the stasis chamber, and taste the humid, medicinal air. His atrophied muscles prevent his eyes from opening. but he'll know that above him is a canopy of glass, trapping death outside.

And if he could shout, there'd be no-one to hear him.


End file.
